


Fans of a Feather.....

by Lazchan



Series: Tiger's Friendship [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9167581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazchan/pseuds/Lazchan
Summary: A short piece where Yuri sees just how dedicated some of Yuuri's earlier fans are when they find them in an out of the way cafe.





	

At the moment, it was just him and Yuuri in a small café. Viktor was under the firm orders to practice without Yuuri around; he was competing before Yuuri was, after all, and his routine needed to be polished first. Yakov was making him work hard so that he could represent Russia, saying the year off only made him lazy. Yuuri just decided to take the time to practice with Yuri, because it was easier than seeing Viktor pout at him, expecting him to take his side. The two of them were better motivators to do better than anyone else and they both knew each other's routine inside and out. They were taking a break in between practices and hoped that they wouldn't be spotted.

_Yakov would lecture the both of us and it wouldn't matter that Yuuri can't understand all of it yet._

The giggle caught Yuri's attention—young and high pitched and for a moment, he tensed, looking around to see if his fans had suddenly appeared. He hadn't put out that he was out anywhere and he had been convinced into  wearing something simpler than his usual leopard print coat as well. He looked over his menu at the group of girls that were crammed into a booth together, pointing to something on their phone and then over at their table.

He blinked when he noticed they were Japanese and he flicked his gaze over to Yuuri, who was staring down at the menu, but his eyes weren't focused on it and Yuri could hear the faint 'tap tap' of him working out a rhythm of the music only he was hearing. Yuri poked at him. "Oi, katsudon," he muttered under his breath. "What are those girls saying?" He wanted to make sure there wasn't going to be a stampede of fans. It was why they picked this place; it was out of the way and fairly quiet.

Yuuri looked over at the girls and as they chattered on, the tips of his ears went red and he hid his face behind the menu again. "… it must be interesting," he smirked as he drew out the words. "Care to share, katsudon?" he asked, leaning one hand on his cheek and watching as Yuuri tried to slink under the table. He shoved him back upward with a casual nudge of his foot.

"They…" There was a moment of awareness on Yuuri's face, as if he realized he could say anything at all and Yuri would never know if what he was saying was the truth or not. _It's a shame that he already gave the game away that it's something embarrassing about him._ Yuuri cleared his throat. "They recognized me, that’s all," he muttered, fingers nervously tapping against his leg.

"I'm sure that's all they said," Yuri snorted. It could go either way with figure skating; they could be looking at the failures or be genuine fans. His attention was diverted when their server came back over to them, blocking the view of the girls, one of whom let out a disappointed sigh that Yuri could hear even over the server's chipper voice. He was just glad that the server didn’t seem to recognize them, but Yuri pulled the hood further over his head just in case and mumbled out his requests while Yuuri managed to stutter out enough Russian to order. 

They were in full view again once the server left and Yuri felt the penetrating stares and he barely resisted getting up to yell at them to mind their own business. There was another sigh and one of the girls was fiddling with something in the table in front of her; a book or magazine of some sort. He wasn't close enough to see what it was and it would be rude and _obvious_ if he craned his neck to see what they were all staring at besides their phones and Yuuri.

There was another round of hushed conversation and suddenly Yuuri sat up straight, his expression filled with shock. "They're coming over here. I mean, at least one of them is—" he looked like he wanted to bury his face in his hands, but he was also aware that they were in public. 

"Don't tell me you're scared of teenage girls," Yuri scoffed. He didn't mention his own legion of fans and he gave another quick look around, just to make sure there were no hidden clumps of girls with cat ears on and an unnerving dedication to literally sniffing out his position.

Yuuri grimaced. "I don't know how to deal with any fans," he whispered. "I wasn't ever that popular…" his voice trailed off when Yuri knew the look he gave Yuuri was blatantly disbelieving.

"You really can't be that much of an idiot," he sighed and rubbed his forehead. "You had to have been popular before the Grand Prix, Yuuri." It was aggravating enough that he used his real name. "I heard enough people shouting your name and they weren't even all Japanese." It wasn't as if fans exclusively came from one country, but it was more heavily weighted toward them in their home countries.

Yuuri shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose, eyes trained on the table and he didn't notice the girl shuffling closer. "I…" he closed his eyes a moment. "I didn't stay in Japan very long after I started skating competitively," he said slowly. "I was eighteen when I moved to America and trained with Ci…" he coughed and flushed. "When I had Celestino as my coach. I wasn't like you, skating in Juniors and winning championships when I was fifteen." His smile was small and amused and he looked back up at Yuri at that.

"Of course not," Yuri rolled his eyes. "That's because I was aiming to be better than anyone and I proved my point." He didn't mention all those that came before him; including Yuuri. There were aspects of his routine that he had worked over and over again, just so that he could be better than anybody else that showed up on the stage with him. He had _planned_ that year to see Yuuri at Worlds and see if he had improved those jumps, but that had never happened. He pushed away the twinge of guilt that he might have had something to do with that, but that was in the past and Yuuri was excelling _now_. There were more than enough opportunities to crush his record. 

"Um…" Both of them looked up at the quiet voice that interrupted their conversation. "You…you…." Yuri understood enough of the Japanese to understand her fumbling. "You're Katsuki Yuuri…aren't you?"

Yuuri nodded slowly, pushing his glasses up with one hand and giving her a nervous smile. "Yes…" he said softly. He had gotten better with media attention at the last Grand Prix, but a one on one with a fan was different. Yuri watched him carefully and even though he couldn't understand the conversation, he noticed Yuuri slowly relaxing, but when the girl pushed forward the item she had been holding, he stiffened in shock.

Now he was able to see it clearly and his eyes widened as he looked over at Yuuri and then at the girl. "How long have you _had_ that?" he demanded and she turned her gaze to him for a moment and her she mouthed the words, trying to process the sharp Russian.

Yuuri hastened to translate, clearly curious as well, despite his shock. The cover of the magazine was _him_ from his earlier skating career.

 _So that's what Yuuri looked like when he was around my age…_ he mused.  There was a bright, happy smile on his face as he had been captured doing part of his routine. He hadn't seen that open of a smile often; even around Viktor, the pure, wide smiles weren't displayed in public. Sometimes, when Yuri shared a meal with the two of them, he relaxed and smiled more, but this—this was a side of Yuuri that he didn't think existed until recently.

He realized that she was answering his questions, gesturing back to the table and then to him again and she gave him a shy smile as she held out the magazine and a sharpie. He still looked a little astonished, but there was a small smile on his face. "It's okay?" he asked softly. Yuri was going to quiz him later on all of what was said during the conversation. He wasn't going to be satisfied with a handful of words.

She nodded vigorously and he wrote carefully along the side of the picture, a wistful smile on his face.  She looked thrilled when she took it back and it looked like that was all there was going to be to the situation, when Yuri got an idea and he gave Yuuri a sly look before facing the girl.

"You want picture?" he asked, in slow, careful Japanese. He held up his phone in demonstration and gestured to Yuuri. Her face lit up and her friends all nodded and looked just as eager, while Yuuri made a faint squeaking noise in the back of his throat. "I take for you—" he grinned even wider.

"Yuri…" Yuuri protested this and twisted his hands together, but the girls all looked so happy that he sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "I don't look like I did back then—" Not that _any_ of them looked like they did on the ice; it was a performance as much as anything and costuming and makeup did wonders to set the mood.

"If you actually smiled, then you would," Yuri muttered under his breath. "It's not like you've aged." He suddenly wondered if the "girls" were actually as young as they looked, too. He shook his head when Yuuri gave him a questioning look and then ran a hand through his hair, self-conscious, before having a rapid discussion with the fan and her friends. His cheeks were flushed and Yuri was tempted to take a few pictures of his own; it was amusing to see Yuuri so flustered.

_Not that it's anything new, but still…_

Yuuri finally managed to calm down enough and took off his glasses, handing them to Yuri carefully, his hair falling into his face slightly. It was longer than it had been during any of the competitions and Yuri idly wondered if Yuuri even registered the length. He edged out of the way so that the girls could crowd around Yuuri, all of them beaming and Yuuri even managing a tentative smile.

He was handed a collection of phones and he carefully took the pictures for each girl—they all seemed thrilled to be near Yuuri and he shook his head slightly. Not at the fact that they were fans of him, but that Yuuri didn't seem to think about it at all—and these weren't just new fans that had seen his world record-breaking performance at Barcelona. All too soon -and probably not soon enough for Yuuri- their food came and the girls went back to their seats, happy and blushing and the one girl managed to get in a quick hug, stammering apologies right after and leaving a shell-shocked Yuuri behind. _That_ was a photo opportunity that Yuri wouldn't miss and he managed to snap the picture before Yuuri shook himself out of it.

He stared down at his food, baffled and then started to laugh. "You know—if we were trying to hide this from Yakov, I don't think it's going to be a secret for too much longer," he said. "Even if I did ask the ladies to wait to upload everything until after we left so we won't be late for practice."

Yuri blinked and then swore under his breath, stabbing at his food, then he started to laugh as well. "And Viktor is going to pout because he wasn't here to push you into more chances to show you off," he teased. "I bet he wants one of those magazines for himself."

Yuuri turned a deeper shade of red, but waved shyly at the girls as they finished up their meals and headed out the door. "They didn't even ask about you… " he said, a little shocked. "I… but you're—" he rubbed the back of his head.

"They were _your_ fans, idiot," Yuri rolled his eyes. "My fans aren't going to go after you and your fans aren't going to want to talk to me when their _idol_ is in the room." He smirked as he said it and then proceeded to ignore Yuuri's splutters about being the idol of _anyone_ , concentrating on his food. They didn't have that much time to waste, after all.

Still…he looked down at one of the photos he had taken for himself, Yuuri staring down at the magazine of his younger self. He'd managed to capture the small, pleased smile on Yuuri's face before the shock had set in. This one, he'd keep for himself.

Maybe he'd show Viktor. He grinned to himself and finished up, dragging Yuuri to his feet. "Come on, katsudon. Stop thinking about giggling fans and let's start to get back to work so that you can realize why you _have_ them."

He ignored Yuuri's grumbling and shoved him out the door. He had pictures all over the place online, but he hadn't had his face on a magazine yet and once he got the chance, he'd find out exactly what was said about teenage Katsuki Yuuri.

He kept a hand on Yuuri's back and kept his voice low, in case the fans were still lingering around or if they had alerted anyone else. "And you better tell me what they said, katsudon," he ordered. "I didn't study Japanese like Viktor did, so I didn't catch all of it."

Yuuri blinked and then rubbed the back of his head, moving enough away from Yuri so that he wouldn't get shoved in the back anymore. "They thanked me for still staying in figure skating," he said, voice still wondering. "That they had cheered for me since they saw my first performance when I was still skating at the local level." He turned red. "They wanted to know if I still had the poodle plush that they had thrown out onto the ice."

Yuri's eyebrows rose at that. "You got stuffed dogs?" he asked in disbelief. "Did they know you were obsessed with Viktor even then?"

Yuuri shook his head quickly. "No—no, I had a poodle of my own then," he said softly. "A toy poodle that my mom got for me when I was twelve." Yuuri was very carefully not looking at Yuri as he spoke. "He died right before the Grand Prix Finals last year at Sochi." He looked over at Yuri then, who was staring at him in open-mouthed shock. "It's one of the reasons why I wasn't doing my best then." He pushed his glasses up his nose and gave a shrug. "So I was surprised that they were still fans after all of that," he carried on as if he hadn't just dropped that uncomfortable news.

"… you amaze me sometimes, katsudon," Yuri muttered and strode forward, past Yuuri. "You only failed to yourself, never to them. Now if you had actually _quit…_ " He let his voice trail off and the threat was clear and he got a laugh out of Yuuri instead of what could have been more tears. "I would have been the one dragging your ass back onto the ice." 

"Isn't that what we're going to do now?" Yuuri grinned at him widely and then broke out into a run. "So you can _try_ and beat my Free Skate score?"

"Sure, like you're not trying to beat my Short Program," Yuri mocked and then they both paused as they looked toward the rink in the distance. They were _both_ in a race to beat Viktor's overall and they wouldn't let any other competitor, not even Viktor, take that chance away from them.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop seeming to want to write little bits where Yuuri is shown to be talented, ahaha. This is more of a "he probably had long-standing fans" and if he was Japan's ace, I wondered when he got the title.


End file.
